


Indeo

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-20
Updated: 2003-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-06 12:08:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10334309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: SPOILERS : NeedSUMMARY : What happened after Jack go Daniel out of the storeroom? Well, wonder no longer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

Indeo

Daniel was shaking. Shaking so hard that Jack felt the tremors coursing through his own body. Maybe if he held Daniel tighter. His knee was killing him. Momentarily loosening his grip, he brought his leg around and sat on the floor alongside Daniel, taking the pressure off his knee. He tightened his hold around Daniel and rocked, stroking his hair and murmuring.

Jack knew the anguish Daniel was feeling. The torment of loosing control, the guilt of betraying his friends, the physical pain of withdrawal. This was not ordinary narcotic withdrawal. This was withdrawal from a goddamn alien box that not only screwed with his metabolism, but also changed Daniel from the sweet natured, considerate man he was, to a vicious, irrational, hyped-up monster with no regard for his friends. His only concern had been to get back to the planet, to the box that held the fix, and it seemed nothing would stand in his way.

However, Jack had placed himself in Daniel's way. Daniel had come to the brink of killing his best friend and Jack had firmly placed himself in harm's way. If he were going to get through Daniel's haze of psychosis, it would have to be harsh. He'd have to put aside being Daniel's friend, and become his adversary.

Daniel had finally broken. It was only a matter of time. Now the healing could start.

Jack had his eyes squeezed shut, just holding on. If he cracked, he would be of no use to Daniel. He heard a commotion behind him. He turned his head and saw several airmen, Sam, Teal'c and Doctor Fraiser in the hallway outside the door. Jack motioned for Sam to come.

She stepped into the room and stooped down beside Jack and Daniel. Sam's big blue eyes were overflowing with tears of concern and sadness. The hand she placed on Daniel's back was shaking. "Yes, sir?" she whispered.

"Carter, get those airmen out of here. I want the hall cleared when I take Daniel out of here."

"Yes, sir." Sam started to rise, and then she saw Daniel's feet. The bottoms of both feet were bloody and a pool was forming on the floor. "Uh, sir, Daniel's feet..."

Jack looked. "Damn," he whispered. "Okay. Ask Teal'c and Doc Fraiser to come in."

Sam stood up. "Yes, sir."

Daniel's body had relaxed against Jack, his arms dropped, and Jack could feel the full weight of Daniel's head on his shoulder. Daniel was exhausted, his energy sapped. The tremors had lessened, but were still discernable.

Doctor Fraiser stooped to examine Daniel's feet. "We need to get him to the infirmary."

Jack's head jerked up. "No!"

Fraiser looked at him quizzically. "Sir..."

Jack moderated his voice. "Doc. Please. I really want him in a private area. No infirmary, no restraints. I can get him through this, but it needs to be just me. Can you just wrap his feet up and let me take him to a VIP room?"

Fraiser was shaking her head as he spoke. Then she saw the colonel's eyes. He was dead serious. "Sir, he needs medical attention. There may be glass in those feet and we don't know if he'll be violent when he wakes up..."

Jack interrupted. "I've had experience with this. He needs one-on-one. He needs _me_. Please, Janet. I'll beg if I have to. I know I'm right."

Janet sighed. "All right, Colonel. I'll allow it. But if he takes a turn for the worse and I decide he needs the infirmary, I don't want any arguments. I have final authority. Understood?"

Jack nodded. "Deal."

"I'll go get some bandages and wrap these up so he doesn't bleed down the hall. I can do a better job later." She stood up. "I'll be right back." Janet turned and left.

Jack stayed where he was. He didn't want to move until they were ready to move Daniel. Teal'c was squatting beside him, his usually stoic features reflecting deep concern. "I am here, O'Neill."

"When the Doc gets back and wraps up Daniel's feet, will you help me carry him? I wanna take him to a VIP room."

Teal'c glanced at Daniel's bleeding feet. "I will," he said simply.

Several minutes later, Doctor Fraiser reappeared and silently began wrapping gauze dressings around Daniel's feet. As she wrapped, she looked up at Daniel's face resting on Jack O'Neill's shoulder. He was pale, his face and hair damp with sweat, tears still flowing even though he appeared to be either asleep or unconscious. She figured it was probably the former rather than the latter. The exhaustion was evident, and frankly, completely expected. His body's metabolism had been in overdrive for so long, it had to crash eventually.

"Okay, colonel, all done." She stood up and stepped back, crunching on broken glass, as she made room for Teal'c to move in beside Daniel.

"I will take him, O'Neill." Teal'c knelt and placed one arm behind Daniel's back and the other under his knees. He gently pulled Daniel away from O'Neill, transferred Daniel's limp body to himself, and then he stood.

Jack used the wall to help pull himself up, his knees protesting. "Let's go." He bent to pick up the gun Daniel had dropped, then he lead Teal'c out of the storage room, and they made their way down the hallway to the nearest VIP room. Sam had cleared the halls and no one was there to slow them down or to gape at them.

Doctor Fraiser walked ahead and opened the door, then went to the bed to pull the covers down. Teal'c came in right behind her. He bent over the bed and laid his burden gently in the center. Daniel was limp as a wet noodle, his head flopping onto the pillow at an awkward angle. Teal'c reached under Daniel's head and moved it to a more comfortable position before straightening up and stepping back.

"What do you need, Colonel?" Doctor Fraiser asked.

Jack thought for a minute. "I need a coffee maker and lots of coffee. I need something for him to wear, and some extra towels...and time."

Sam sat on the edge of the bed next to Daniel, and then looked up at the colonel, "We'll do everything we can, sir."

"I know. But this is something Daniel has to do. All we can do is be here. I'm staying; I'll call you and Teal'c when I need help. Will you take care of this and brief General Hammond?" Jack asked as he carefully handed Sam the gun.

"Yes, sir." Sam stood, looked back at Daniel for a moment, and then turned to leave.

Janet sat in her place and looked Daniel over quickly. She took his face in her hands, and looked at his eyes. "I'll be back after awhile to re-dress those feet. They all looked like superficial cuts, but I want to look closer and clean them properly." She stood up and headed for the door. The two women left and closed the door quietly behind them.

"I will stay and assist you, O'Neill."

"Okay, first off, let's get these clothes off him." The two of them tugged, pulled and generally manhandled Daniel to remove his belt, pants and t-shirt. Then Jack pulled the covers over him and sat down to wait. Teal'c pulled a chair to the side of the bed, and he too, sat.

Daniel was deeply asleep. The tremors had subsided and his body was limp. Jack held Daniel's hand in his own and felt the unusual warmth of it. After a few minutes, he placed Daniel's hand under the covers and stood up. He needed to pace. He needed to think, and pacing always facilitated the process.

Jack had dealt with withdrawal before. A friend in the service; a roommate in college came quickly to mind. He knew generally what to expect, but this was oh so different. An alien technology had done this to Daniel. An unknown chemical imbalance had occurred and had turned Daniel into a walking time bomb. He prayed he wasn't wrong about this, about taking Daniel out of the infirmary.

Daniel's usually gentle, caring nature had been obliterated and replaced by a demanding, cruel, out-of-control personality. That person's sole purpose seemed to be to get more of whatever it was that caused this, no matter whom he had to step over to do it. Like an addict craves more and more of its drug of choice, Daniel's body was craving more and more of whatever the sarcophagus offered. He had literally been in danger of dying in the process. That part seemed to have resolved. Doctor Fraiser said his chemistries were better; the cellular processes were getting back to normal. Now they had to deal with the physical symptoms and the emotional fallout.

Maybe they'd get lucky. Maybe all Daniel needed was to sleep it off. Yeah, and maybe pigs can sprout wings and fly. If Jack O'Neill was any judge, he and Daniel were in for hours, maybe days, of pain. Jack knew that what Daniel needed was unconditional support and that is what he would get.

Daniel was a deeply principled man. He was a good man. When he was in his right mind, he was a well-balanced and levelheaded man who always put others first. Jack was committed to being right here when that man came back to them. No matter what it took, he would see to it that Daniel had what he needed to come back. 'If there is a God', Jack thought, 'Daniel would not remember any of it.'

***

Janet Fraiser entered the VIP suite with trepidation. Afraid that Jack O'Neill had bitten off more than he could chew. Afraid that she had been wrong about Daniel's labs and that, in actuality, his body had merely been rallying once more before it started on its final downward spiral. Afraid that the exposure to whatever is inside a sarcophagus had caused Daniel permanent brain damage. Afraid that his astonishingly brilliant mind had been somehow corrupted, and that the spark of whatever it was that makes Daniel _Daniel_ was lost to them forever. What if he never returned to himself? What if everyone at the SGC, his family--his only family now--had lost their son, brother, friend- forever?

Janet mentally shook herself and stepped into the darkened room balancing a tray of supplies in one hand while she closed the door with the other. Daniel was still lying where Teal'c had originally put him, sprawled on his back, arms flung out with abandon. Her practiced eye noted with relief from across the room the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

Jack was sitting in a chair beside the bed, bent over in a pose of prayer. Okay, so she doubted he was actually praying. Praying just didn't seem to be part of Jack's nature, but he was certainly doing _something_ very intensely. His fists were balled in white-knuckled knots, pressed against his forehead. His eyes squeezed tightly shut and his body trembled with the effort.

Instinct kicked in and Janet found herself kneeling in front of him before she realized she had crossed the room. Looking up into his face, she laid a hand gently on the side of his face, searching it for clues.

Jack's head jerked up startled at the touch. His face was crimson and wet. He flushed even more, if that were possible, when he realized someone had not only seen him, but was trying to comfort him.

"Sir, are you alright?" Janet said as she withdrew her hand from his face, to place it on his arm.

Jack wiped a hand over his face. Making no attempt to pull away, he nevertheless could not meet her eyes. "I'm okay, Doc...just...you know..." He sighed and placed fingers over his eyes and squeezed, "...tired."

"...and worried, and scared, and sad, and probably a little pissed." Janet rose to her feet. "I understand, Colonel," Janet said, looking down on him. "I am too."

Jack looked up into her smiling face and met her eyes. "More than a little pissed," he said flatly.

"Where is Teal'c?"

"I made him go. I told him I'd call when I need him."

Janet nodded and stepped over to the bed. "Feel like helping me?"

Jack leaned forward and rose from the chair slowly, as if every bone ached. "Sure. What can I do?"

Janet turned and walked around to the end of the bed. "I'm going to re-dress those feet. I'd appreciate it if you'd hold him so he won't kick me," she said smiling.

Jack sat on the side of the bed, watched Daniel's face for a moment, and then turned his attention to the task at hand. He hoped Daniel wouldn't wake up.

Janet stooped at the foot of the bed and lifted the covers off of Daniel's feet. He shifted slightly in response.

The tray of supplies she had brought was perched on the end of the bed. She must have placed them there, although she didn't remember doing it. Carefully, she snipped the gauze wrappings and gently pulled them away. She glanced at Daniel's face. 'So far, so good.'

As she worked quickly and quietly, she glanced up at O'Neill. His color had returned to normal. He was very lightly holding Daniel's legs, ready to firm up his grip if need be. "This isn't too bad. Just shallow cuts, a few pieces of glass." She demonstrated by holding up a sparkling shard with tweezers, then dropping it in a bowl. "They should heal up just fine." She tried to sound reassuring. In reality, minor though they may be, these cuts were going to be a constant source of irritation for Daniel for a while. Walking will be painful and the healing process will undoubtedly involve the inevitable itching. Just one more thing he really didn't need just now. Still, the lacerated feet were the least of his problems.

Finishing up, Janet stood and dropped her gloves on the tray. She then moved to the head of the bed and sat next to Daniel, placing a hand on his forehead. He didn't stir. He was hot. Not surprising considering his high metabolism. Not hot enough to worry about right now. His face was pale, but completely relaxed in deep repose.

Janet felt like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting to see what little Goa'uldy nightmares that damned sarcophagus had in store for Daniel yet. It just couldn't be this easy. Daniel was never that lucky.

After a moment she sighed and rose to her feet. Jack was lurking on the other side of the bed, hands in his pockets, swaying ever so slightly from side to side. He was hanging over the bed like a gargoyle.

Janet walked to the other side of the bed and placed a steadying hand on his arm. "Colonel, get some rest while he's sleeping. I'm going to have a cot brought over from the infirmary for you. This may be a long ordeal."

He nodded silently as she patted his arm and turned to leave the room.

Jack returned to his chair and sank into it. He couldn't decide what he wanted to do more; cry, strangle Daniel, cry, strangle Shyla, or just...cry. He was tired. He was god-awful-to-the-bone weary. His head sank as he rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

He wasn't really angry with Daniel. Well, not except for that running off on a wild hair to rescue some damn stranger part. What happened after that could hardly be construed as Daniel's fault. If anything, he blamed himself for not watching Daniel closely enough. For not making sure everyone was ready to run when he decided it was time to make their break. For not planning that escape at all, just instantly making a move without considering the possible consequences. 'Okay, enough of this. What's done is done. No sense placing blame.'

'Okay, well as long as we're _not_ placing blame, no sense in blaming that conniving, manipulative, scanky little sex kitten who wanted to keep Daniel under her thumb for the rest of his sarcophagus-extended life by using his friends to...'

'Okay, stop. Never mind. Can't think about that right now. Wouldn't do any good anyway.'

Daniel stirred, a soft moan caught Jack's attention and he moved over to the bed and sat next to Daniel, placing a hand on his chest. Daniel didn't wake up, but seemed to be dreaming. Nothing violent, he just seemed...distressed. After a moment he calmed and his breathing returned to normal.

"Okay...cool," Jack whispered under his breath. He stayed where he was for a few minutes before standing to pace. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.

Jack froze in mid-stride when something bumped the door. A muffled curse was followed by another bump, and then the door flung open and banged against the wall. Jack glanced at Daniel, and then strode over to the door to help move the fold-a-way bed that was being shoved unceremoniously through the open door by its unseen driver.

After maneuvering the bed inside the room and rolling it against a wall, Jack helped Siler with a cart that he had been pulling behind him with one hand while he pushed the bed with the other.

"Thank you, sir. Sorry about the noise," Siler said, glancing over at Daniel.

"It's okay, sergeant. It would take a sonic boom to wake him right now."

Siler's eyes darted around the room, back to Daniel, and then at Jack. "Uh, yes, sir. Sonic boom, very good, sir. Uh, I'll be going now." He turned and lunged for the door and closed it quickly and quietly behind him.

"Uh, Siler, it's really not..." Jack sighed and decided to drop it. He wondered briefly what it was that the laconic and ever-stoic Sergeant Siler thought was going on in here. Jack heaved another sigh and turned to the supplies. In addition to the rollaway bed, Fraiser had also sent a stack of towels, pillows, scrub tops and bottoms, lots of cans of juice, and a well-used Mr. Coffee with a box of those little coffee-in-a-pouch thingies that you throw in the maker. No muss, no fuss. What a doll.

After setting up the bed in the corner, Jack put it to use immediately. He decided Fraiser was right. He might as well sleep while Daniel slept because he may not be able to later. He lay on his back, hands behind his head and sighed deeply. Glancing over at Daniel, he satisfied himself that he was okay just closing his eyes for a few minutes. He was relying on his years of field ops to trigger his waking reflex if something changed. He'd relied on this reflex for many years, and it never failed him. There was no twilight, no drifting, no foggy zone of almost-asleep and almost-awake. Jack was out, instantly and completely.

***

Fire. Burning. Flames licked their way up his body. Underpinning the heat and the pain, there was an ache. There was an indefinable pulsating throb that matched the rhythm of his heart. The same heart that felt like it might break out of his chest at any minute. Daniel gasped and found himself bolt upright in a bed, drenched in sweat and shaking like a leaf in a storm.

At the same instant, he was aware of someone close to him, holding him. The heat of that body, added to his own, was unbearable. Without knowing who or what was holding him, he shoved it away with all the strength he could muster.

He had to get out. He had to find some water, something to put out the fire that was consuming him. He blindly scrambled for the side of the bed and threw his legs over. As his feet touched the floor, a new pain shot through him and a new sound assailed his ears. He knew the sound came from him, yet he felt detached from it somehow. He drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees, holding them and rocking.

Jack was awake as instantly as he had fallen asleep when he heard Daniel sit up and groan. Daniel felt hot, he was soaked in sweat, as was the bed in which he had lain. Jack tried to ease him awake slowly, but Daniel was disoriented and probably delirious. "Daniel, it's me-Jack. You're alright...shhhhhhh." Jack had an arm around his shoulder and was patting him with one hand while the other kept a firm grip on Daniel's upper arm.

Daniel was struggling weakly against his hold. "Jack, I'm hot. I've gotta go. Please let me go. It hurts."

Jack kept up a steady rhythm of rocking and rubbing. He heard the door click and looked up to find Carter and Teal'c in the doorway. Perfect timing. He waved them over.

Sam stooped on the floor in front of Daniel, soothing him with a gentle hand rubbing his leg. "What happened, sir?" She looked at where her hand touched Daniel's leg, expecting to see it bright red. It was that hot.

"He just woke up. He's hot as a pistol. I wanna get him in the shower." He looked up at Teal'c still standing near the door. "Teal'c, can you help me?"

Teal'c strode to the bedside in two long strides. Without a word, he bent and lifted Daniel easily. Daniel struggled against yet another hot body pressing on him, but his struggles were weak and ineffectual.

Jack stood and headed for the bathroom to start the water. Turning briefly to Carter, he said, "Carter, would you change the bed? It's pretty wet."

Carter stood, rubbing her sweaty hands on her pants. Daniel's sweat, she realized, not hers. "Sure, sir."

Jack turned the shower water on and held a hand under the stream until it was just barely warm. He stepped aside and allowed Teal'c to step into the shower stall and set Daniel down on the floor, leaning against the cool tile. Jack reached up and adjusted the showerhead to spray just below Daniel's face as much as possible.

The relief was immediate. The water extinguished the flames and Daniel leaned into it. He struggled to sit forward and dropped his head to his chest to allow the water to wash over his hair and run down his back. Nothing ever felt so good. He was finally completely awake. He knew Teal'c and Jack were there, hovering nearby. He wished he would be allowed to deal with this alone. He knew he wouldn't be.

Daniel wasn't sure how long he sat there before Jack's face appeared beside him. "How ya doin'?"

He turned his head and glanced at Jack, unable to bring himself to look him in the eye. "Okay." After a moment, he added, "Thank you."

Jack couldn't help but grin. The old Daniel was peeking through, polite to a fault. "I'm gonna take those bandages off your feet, okay? They're saturated."

Daniel looked down at his feet, seeing for the first time, the bulky white bandages wrapping both of his feet. Before, they had just registered as socks. Now he remembered. The storeroom. The lights. Oh God, he had tried to kill Jack.

Jack was cutting at the wet gauze with a pocketknife, cutting and unwrapping. Finally both feet were free, and Daniel felt lightening bolts of pain shoot up his legs as the water hit the cuts on the bottoms of his feet. He stared as a ribbon of blood leaked from his feet and snaked its way down the drain.

Daniel wished he could just float away down that drain too. He had betrayed his friends, he had attacked and tried to kill Jack, and God knows what else. He couldn't remember all of it, but the shame ran deep and weighed him down like a slab of concrete. How could Jack look at him, much less be here taking care of him?

He wished he could go to the infirmary where some anonymous nurse, whom he had never hurt, would take care of him because it was her job, not because of pity or a misplaced sense of duty. Tears of shame and regret flowed, unnoticed, mixing with the shower water.

Jack was still sitting beside him, outside the shower stall. Daniel could feel his scrutiny, but couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes.

Finally Jack cleared his throat and said, "Ready to get out yet?"

Daniel had lost track of time. He glanced at his feet. The blood no longer flowed. The water had become several degrees cooler. His fingertips were white and wrinkled.

Daniel's eyes flickered to Jack and he started to try to rise. Pulling his feet towards him, he tried to get them under him and use the wall to pull himself up. He was weak, his feet hurt and the wall was slick.

"Wait a minute, let me help you." Jack reached down and grasped Daniel under his arms and pulled him up. The pain shot through his feet, but then lessened as he put pressure on them. As long as he stood still, he could handle it.

Jack reached over and turned off the water. A towel appeared from behind Jack, and he took it and wrapped it around his waist. Teal'c must be here too. 'Oh, God. If they were here, Sam wouldn't be far away.'

A heavy black fog of exhaustion settled over him threatening to push him back down to the floor. Jack was saying something, but Daniel was too tired to listen.

"...pull these off and get some of these scrubs on..." Daniel felt hands under the towel pulling his wet boxers off. Ordinarily, he would be mortified, but right now, he was too tired to care. He felt socks being put on his feet. They felt warm and clean. Then he held onto Jack's shoulder as he robotically stepped into a fresh, crisp pair of blue scrub pants. Someone, Jack he supposed, pulled them up and then removed the towel from around his waist and placed it around his shoulders. Another was used to scrub his hair dry. Okay, now _that's_ a bad idea. Daniel became instantly dizzy and began swaying.

"Whoops, probably not a good idea, huh? C'mon, Daniel, let's get you back to bed. Can you walk?"

Even if he couldn't, he'd never admit it. Carefully placing one foot in front of the other, he slowly made his way out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He paused at the door and sighed. Squinting his eyes, the bed looked so far away. He felt a hand on his back. Mustering his resolve, he slowly and methodically took small steps toward the bed. When he got near enough, he bent over and reached for the bed, then swung his hips around and sat on the edge, panting. One more step on his shredded feet and he was afraid he'd pass out.

Daniel looked at the white socks on his feet and saw the blotches of crimson seeping through the bottoms. Then he looked at the carpet where he had just walked. No footprints.

"Wanna put this on?" Jack held up a scrub top. Daniel pushed his arms through it and pulled it over his head. "C'mon, Daniel, lay down. Get some rest."

Daniel was at a loss. His urge was to run. He wanted to hide, get away from the helpful hands and the prying eyes. He didn't deserve their help, their care, or their sympathy. Sam was standing on the far side of the bed behind him. He hadn't acknowledged her. Couldn't bring himself to look at her. He knew he'd hurt her. He knew sorry wasn't enough.

Daniel suddenly felt very cold. A chill ran through his body, jarring him, causing his skin to break out in goose bumps. His head was fuzzy; he was dizzy and slightly nauseated. Maybe he should just do like Jack said. Lie down. Maybe he could go to sleep and all this would go away.

Daniel leaned over and swung his legs up on the bed. Someone pulled a sheet and then a blanket over him. He huddled in a ball, on his side, still shivering. After a moment he felt another, heavier blanket being spread over him. He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing, willing himself not to throw up. Willing everything and everyone to go away.

"Would you like something to drink, Daniel?" That was Sam.

He didn't open his eyes. The thought of food or drink was as unbearable as the thought of how he had hurt Sam. Without a word, he shook his head and burrowed deeper in the bedding.

After that, it was quiet for a while. They were probably watching him. Wondering what he would do next. All he wanted to do was crawl in a hole and pull it in after him. He pulled the bed covers up higher until they covered most of his head. He felt a weight press down on the bed next to him. Someone was sitting beside him, rubbing his back. It felt good. God he was so tired...

***

Teal'c watched silently as Captain Carter sat with Daniel Jackson and rubbed his back through the layers of blankets. She, like most of her kind, instinctively knew how to comfort. Touching and comforting was alien to him, but he was learning from his friends the value of tactile communication. He watched, he learned, he appreciated, but it did not and would never come naturally to him.

Daniel Jackson had hidden his head under the blankets, but Teal'c could tell from the change of the rhythm of his breathing, that he had gone to sleep. The shower had exhausted him.

He had seen the effect of the sarcophagus on humans before. Apophis once had a scientist conduct research on the effects to humans. He would deliberately injure, or even kill a slave, and then revive them in a sarcophagus. The natural progression of those experiments was to see the effects on a healthy human.

Once the effects were known and documented, the human was dismissed, only to suffer the horrible after-effects of withdrawal, sometimes to the point of death.

Daniel Jackson would not die. He was sure of this. He had excellent medical care and support, but the road back would be hard. Teal'c had pledged himself to this world, to this facility, to this team, and most particularly to this man. Whatever was needed, he would contribute the fullest measure. Daniel Jackson deserved nothing less of him.

***

Sam could see the difference in Daniel's breathing, could feel the muscles of his body relax under her hand. Carefully she pulled the blanket back to reveal his face. He was totally relaxed, mouth slightly opened, his hand loosely cupped on the pillow. His temperature was warm, but had none of the radiating heat that she felt earlier. She folded the edge of the blanket down to just below his shoulder and rose from the bed.

Teal'c was at the foot of the bed, silently standing guard with his hands behind his back. Jack was sitting on the edge of the cot, head in hands.

"Sir? Would you like me to stay for awhile so you can get some rest?" Sam whispered.

Jack lifted his head and stared at her as if he had to slowly absorb what she had said. After a long moment, he said, "No thanks, Carter. I'm stayin'. You guys go though. No sense in all of us being here. I'll call you if I need you."

"But, sir..."

"No buts, Carter." He paused and rubbed hand through his short gray hair. "Please, just let me do this. I need to."

"Yes, sir." Carter paused to regard her CO with a fond gaze. He looked wrung out. His worry and consternation over Daniel was catching up with him. She was well aware that the Colonel was not angry with Daniel, or even disappointed in him. His anger was channeled toward the Goa'uld technology that had done this, and the people who had manipulated the situation to their advantage. If ever she wanted to scratch another woman's eyes out...

Sam looked up at Teal'c, standing beside her. His face was a stone mask of inscrutability. Was it anger? Fear? Constipation? It was hard to tell with Teal'c. Only his eyes revealed a softness that she was sure no one else knew was possible in Teal'c. She had come to know it and recognize it for what it was: deep and abiding compassion and loyalty. She placed a hand on Teal'c's forearm and nodded toward the door. They turned as one and Teal'c followed her out of the room and silently closed the door.

***

General George Hammond was sitting at his desk. If there was work to be done, he was unaware of it. If time was passing, he was equally uncaring. His gaze was centered squarely on the framed picture that he had pulled out of the drawer and set on his desk. It was one of his favorites because it was not a posed portrait, but a casual snapshot. The familiar faces were smiling and relaxed. A friendly moment, frozen forever on photo-paper.

That had been one of the good days. It was the day that SG1 came back- all of them. It was the day they had saved the planet from destruction at the hands of Apophis and Klorel.

Jack O'Neill stood in the center of a sea of fatigues, bear-hugging the breath out of Doctor Jackson. The camera had captured O'Neill's smile that threatened to split his face. Behind him stood Carter and Teal'c. Carter smiling, waiting her turn for a hug. Teal'c stoically standing and observing. The sea of faces, some of the names forgotten, were all smiling and laughing and slapping each other on the back. He could see himself, back ramrod straight, standing just behind Doctor Jackson. He remembered that in that frozen instant, he could not have been prouder of anyone, or happier for anyone, than he was for Doctor Jackson and all of Jack's team.

This job had provided him with his share of good days, but the bad days were the ones that stood out. Sometimes he needed to pull out this picture to remind him that these people were more than his subordinates, they were his friends and colleagues. They were a mismatched group of highly motivated and intelligent people thrown together in situations that no one in the history of this planet had ever faced before.

Doctor Jackson in particular had met with more adversity in his short life than was fair by any standard. In spite of, or perhaps because of it, he was a valued, a well respected, and yes, a well-loved member of the SGC in general, and SG1 in particular.

Doctor Jackson, despite the general's early reservations, had proven to be an indispensable asset to his command. Personally, he had become very fond of the smart, be-speckled, passionate young man who, in his own quiet way, had pulled their butts out of the fire on more than one occasion.

Doctor Jackson could always be counted on to come up with an alternative solution to an impossible problem. He was the consummate diplomat, the voice of reason, and the conscience of them all. It was Doctor Jackson's special talent, and part and parcel of what made him unique in the general's experience.

What always tickled Hammond no end, was that Doctor Jackson was singularly unaware of the regard in which his co-workers held him. He could race around the corridors, weighed down by books, glasses hanging off his nose, coffee sloshing on the floor, and perpetually late. He would never notice the smiles of acknowledgement from co-workers, the way they cleared a passage for him, or the way they picked up after him.

If he was sequestered in his lab with a project, oblivious to the world around him, he was coaxed, by those who deemed themselves his caretakers, to eat, sleep and occasionally venture outside.

Hammond was aware that the majority of his personnel thought he was unaware of the personal goings on of his staff; the day-to-day dramas that played out in the facility. They probably thought he was at his desk all-day and oblivious to all but Stargate missions, reports and paper work. In fact, he kept tabs on all of his staff to a degree, but Doctor Jackson held a special place. He doubted he was the only one who felt that way.

Today was one of the bad days. He needed to believe that this team would pull another victory from the jaws of defeat. Right now, Doctor Jackson was engaged in the fight of his life. Hammond counted on the fact that his best people were fighting with him. He trusted Jack O'Neill's judgment, but relied on Doctor Fraiser's back up. He was trying to keep out of it, not wanting to interfere in a matter that he was alien to him. He chuckled out loud, shaking his head. 'Alien' to him. Okay, maybe he was losing it. Maybe a nice, non-interfering yet supportive visit to the VIP suite was in order.

***

Jack O'Neill was rocked from a sound sleep. The cot he laid in heaved; a crack split the silence. He came awake suddenly sitting up, panting. 'Sweet Mary, Jesus and Joseph! What the hell?' Gathering his wits, he surveyed the darkened room. Nothing appeared amiss, except for the fact that the bed next to him was empty and all of the covers were hanging over the edge and trailing on the floor.

Shit! He bolted to his feet, yelping as his bare feet encountered something wet and warm squishing between his toes. 'Goddammit!' He lifted his foot and examined it in the dim light. Warm liquid dripped from his foot to the floor. 'Well, this is a nice surprise.' Following the trail of smeared liquid; he rounded the corner of the cot to find one very unhappy archeologist prone on the floor attempting to get back to his feet. 'Okay, here we go.'

"Daniel, wait a second, let me..." He bolted around the cot and stooped to help Daniel sit up. For his effort he was rewarded with a hard fist to his chest, which sent him backwards to land on his butt with a jarring force.

'Okaaaaay. Different approach called for.' He raised himself up on his knees and reached down to where Daniel's hands were pushing on the floor, holding each wrist tightly. "Daniel. Calm down, let me..."

"No! Leave me alone!" Daniel rolled over and scurried on his butt against the wall. "Just leave me alone, Jack! Get away from me."

Daniel's eyes were wide, white showing all the way around both irises. The front of his shirt was wet where he had thrown up. He had apparently been trying to make it to the bathroom when he fell over the cot.

The two men sat facing each other, both breathing hard. Jack noted Daniel's body language, his expressions. He was obviously in pain, probably nauseated and with an unbelievable headache. Sweat poured from his body, soaked his clothes and lent a sheen to his entire body, which was as pale as the sheets that trailed on the floor. The tremors were violent. Jack doubted Daniel could hold his hand still enough to open a doorknob at this point.

Jack held both hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, Daniel. Let me help you get up and get cleaned up. Okay?"

Daniel shook his head silently. Jack doubted Daniel even knew where he was. This is what Jack had been expecting, what he knew was coming.

"Daniel, I know you're hurting. You probably feel like shit right now, but I can help you. You're going to be alright, I promise." As he spoke softly, he scooted towards Daniel, his hands still raised. Daniel made no move to stop him. His eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape. "Do you still feel sick?"

Daniel's eyes finally came to rest on Jack's face. He shook his head 'no'.

"Good. Probably feel better after tossing your cookies, huh? It's okay. You'll feel better soon. You can go back to sleep as soon as we get you cleaned up and in some dry clothes, okay?" Jack had stopped his progression, allowing Daniel to absorb his words.

Daniel's shoulders slumped, his head dropping to his chest. Jack moved in and took Daniel's shoulders in his hands. He held him at arm's length for a moment, then slid his hands under Daniel's arms and started lifting. "C'mon big guy let's get your butt off the floor." Jack heaved, and Daniel stood in front of him, swaying. Jack wrapped both arms around him and pulled him close, stroking his back. "It's okay, you're gonna be okay."

Daniel stood quietly, his face pressed into Jack's chest, his shoulders shaking, his hands hanging limply at his sides.

After a moment, Jack turned and guided Daniel over to the bed and sat him on the edge. Daniel was pliable, offering no resistance. Jack stepped over to the cart and pulled a fresh scrub shirt and a towel off, brought them over and dropped them on the bed. Then he grabbed a washcloth off the cart and darted into the bathroom to wet it with warm water.

Coming back to the bed, Daniel was still sitting in exactly the same position in which he'd left him. Without asking, Jack began tugging Daniel's shirt off. "C'mon Danny, let's get this wet thing off." Pulling the shirt over Daniel's head, he wadded it up and tossed it behind him. Taking the washcloth, he gently wiped off Daniel's face, and then ran it over his chest and arms. Jack patted him dry with the towel and then helped him put on the clean shirt.

"There, that's gotta feel better."

Jack lifted Daniel's chin with his hand. Tears ran from Daniel's eyes, but he refused to meet Jack's gaze. "Daniel, it's okay. This is just that damn sarcophagus messing with you. It's not you. I promise, this is not you."

Jack retrieved a can of juice from the cart and brought it over and sat on the bed next to Daniel. "Here, I want you to try to drink this. You're probably all dried out." He held the can up for Daniel who made no effort to reach for it.

Jack shifted his position and put one hand on Daniel's neck and brought the can to his lips. Daniel drank in great gulps until the small can was empty.

Daniel closed his eyes and sagged. Jack guided him down in the bed and covered him with clean bedding from the cart. Daniel curled up on his side, hugged the nearest pillow and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Then the rocking began. Daniel rocked himself back and forth, gripping the pillow, holding it against himself like a drowning man holds a lifejacket. Then his body gave an involuntary jerk, and then another. The heaves continued for several minutes, depleting what was left of Daniel's strength. After a few minutes, Daniel relaxed and was quiet.

Jack sat next to him with his back against the headboard. He silently prayed that the grape juice wouldn't be making a return appearance. Bringing his legs up on the bed, he crossed his ankles and laid an arm across Daniel's shoulder. "Daniel. I want you to listen to me. This is what I expected to happen. It was inevitable and it's going to pass. I know you're feeling helpless and ashamed and probably confused. You did some things that you had no control over. None of us think that you're responsible for what happened on six-three-six. It was no more your fault than it was mine or Sam's or Teal'c's. You're a good person and all you were trying to do was help somebody. Even knowing what I know now, I wouldn't have you change who you are. I'm going to get you through this and you're going to be fine. You just have to keep fighting. I'll be right here with you."

Jack looked over at the back of Daniel's head, and then leaned over to see his face. Daniel's eyes were open, staring at the far wall. Finally, Daniel shifted of his own accord. He turned over, abandoning the pillow he had held in a death grip and turned to Jack. He wrapped his arms around his own chest, and buried his face in Jack's side. Jack pulled his arm around Daniel's shoulder and rubbed his back in circles. After a few minutes, Daniel's breathing slowed and his body relaxed.

***

General Hammond entered the VIP suite quietly, without knocking so as not to disturb any sleepers. The room was dim so he stood by the door for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust. After a few moments he moved over toward the bed. Jack O'Neill was sitting slumped against the headboard, dead to the world. Daniel was curled up on his side next to Jack. There were wet and dirty linens piled on the floor. He could imagine what happened. He could imagine, but didn't really want to.

The general stepped over the strewn linens and picked up a blanket from the cot in the corner. He carefully laid it over Jack O'Neill. Mindful not to awaken either man, he turned and picked his way over the debris and out of the room.

***

"Absolutely not, Colonel, and that's my final answer!" The general's face had turned an alarming shade of red. He clenched his fists to avoid lashing out and hitting the first thing within reach. Hopefully, if that were to unavoidably happen, the first thing in reach would be Colonel Harry Mayborne's smug face.

Mayborne turned from the general's desk and paced a few steps. He hid his face momentarily, trying to get his grin under control, then he slowly turned back to the general. "It may be taken out of your hands, General."

"Don't threaten me, Mayborne. I have more stars and bigger friends than you do. Now get out of my office and off my base."

Mayborne stared, mouth slightly open.

"I won't ask twice, _Colonel_."

Mayborne pulled his hat out from under his arm and settled it on his head, eyes never leaving the general's. "This isn't over yet, General." With that, he strode purposefully from the office and quietly closed the door.

Hammond seethed for a moment, then reached out and punched the intercom button.

"Yes, sir," came the voice from the speaker.

"Jenni, would you ask Doctor Fraiser to come to my office at her earliest convenience, please?"

"Yes, sir. Right away."

Hammond released the button and rocked back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with both hands. Harry Mayborne had been a thorn in his side since the inception of this program, but he had never tried anything quite so underhanded and heinous as this.

His mind ventured back to the young man fighting for his sanity in the VIP room at this very moment. If he had to narrow intrinsic value to a single individual on this base, it would have to be Doctor Jackson. Pound for pound, the man had more instinctive knowledge, more innate reasoning and more passion for exploration than any one person he had ever encountered. Technical knowledge, military strategy and theory can be taught, can be replaced if necessary. Critical thinking, outside-of-the-box thinking, hell, just the one-of-a-kind, off-the-map intuition the man possessed by itself made him unique.

Okay, so sometimes tying his own shoelaces was beyond him, but that's why he was part of a team. They looked out for each other. Each brought his own skill, his own strength to the mix. If he could combine Doctor Jackson's cultural knowledge and intuitive mind with Captain Carter's technical and theoretical knowledge, well, hell, they might have to make up another category of Homo sapiens.

Hammond stood and paced, rubbing his neck to ease the tension knotted at the base of his skull. As he rounded the corner of the desk, there was a soft knock on the door, and Doctor Fraiser entered.

Hammond reversed course and headed back to his chair. "Have a seat, Doctor. Thank you for coming so quickly."

Janet Fraiser settled herself in the chair opposite from the general. "No problem, General. We're having a lull at the moment." She smiled and waited. The general rarely summoned her, and when he did, it was not usually to tell her they were doubling her staff and tripling her budget.

"Doctor, I've just had a visit from Colonel Mayborne."

Janet nodded, not saying anything. She knew the general would get to the point in his own time.

"He wants to take Doctor Jackson back to Nellis with him. He says that the knowledge that can be gained by studying him would be invaluable in recreating, or at least understanding the workings of a Goa'uld sarcophagus."

Janet's eyes widened. Her hands latched onto the arms of the chair in a death grip. "Sir! That's..."

Hammond held up a hand to stop her. "I know, Doctor. I have no intention of letting him take Doctor Jackson, or anyone else off this base."

Janet relaxed a little, and closed her mouth. After a moment, she said, "So, what are we going to do?"

"Nothing at this point. I asked for you to come here to give me your medical opinion."

"Well, sir, that kind of study would mean invasive testing, brain biopsies, all kinds of scans, psychological testing..."

"I see," Hammond interrupted, not wanting to hear more.

"Sir, Daniel can not be subjected to that. He's not a lab rat, and he's too valuable..."

"I know, Doctor. I assure you, as long as I am in command of this base, nothing of the sort will happened to Doctor Jackson, or any member of my staff. Can you bring me up to date on his current condition?"

"Well, sir, I popped in a little while ago. He's still sleeping. Colonel O'Neill said there was some confusion, vomiting, pain. That's to be expected. This is behaving just like narcotic withdrawal."

"But, there are no drugs in his system, right?"

"Right, sir. It is solely the result of the effect of the sarcophagus on his system, starting at the cellular level."

"Do you think that Colonel O'Neill is doing the right thing by keeping Doctor Jackson isolated in the VIP room? Can he handle it?"

"Yes, sir. Now that I see the results, I'm sure it was the right decision. I'm devoting some of my staff to help with support. I just sent a couple of orderlies for clean-up and supply detail. Sam and Teal'c were there when I left."

"Thank you, Doctor. That'll be all."

Fraiser rose from her seat and straightened her skirt. "Uh, sir..."

Hammond looked up, meeting her eyes. "Yes, Doctor?"

"Nothing, sir. I'm just...well, this just can't happen, sir."

Hammond sighed. "I know, Doctor. It won't."

Janet reached the door and pulled it open.

"Doctor Fraiser." Hammond stood and took a step toward her.

Janet didn't turn, but stopped and lowered her head. "Yes, sir," she said quietly.

"Please don't mention this conversation to anyone. No need in worrying SG1 any further."

Janet swallowed a lump in her throat. "Yes, sir." She stepped through the door and pulled it closed behind her.

***

Daniel wasn't sleeping. Not now anyway. They all thought he was, but he was listening. He couldn't face them. He couldn't look any of them in the eye. Jack was telling Sam and Teal'c about that little fiasco when he'd tried to get to the bathroom. Okay, so it wasn't his finest hour.

More than anything in this world, he wanted out of here, off this base, away from these people. If they would just let him get back to Shyla, everything would be okay. He'd never have to bother them again. He knew what he needed, and he needed her. And he needed the sarcophagus. And he needed to be left alone.

Daniel had to mentally shake himself. He turned over in the bed. Still pretending to be asleep, he didn't want his inner turmoil reflected on his face, so he turned with his back to his teammates and hoped against hope that they would leave him alone.

Daniel felt as if he were doing battle with himself. Part of him wanted nothing more than to go back to Shyla. With her, he could have unlimited access to the sarcophagus. Only it could make this pain go away.

Another part wanted to stay here and kick this thing. Jack and Sam and Teal'c were his friends. He knew that, and he knew they were only trying to help.

Another severe stomach cramp hit. Daniel muffled an unwanted groan as he curled in a ball and pressed his hands deep into his abdomen. He felt a coolness on his forehead. Someone was holding a washcloth to it and was stroking his hair. Had to be Sam. He opened his eyes. Without his glasses, and through the pain-induced tears, he could make out blonde hair. He could also smell her. She smelled like vanilla.

"Please let me die, Sam."

***

Sam knew that Daniel wasn't asleep. He was in pain and trying to hide it. He had turned over, but his body was stiff and trembling with pain.

"You're not going to die, Daniel."

"You're killing me! You won't let me have what I need!" Daniel was sobbing now.

"You need _us_ , Daniel. You're going to be alright, I promise." Sam stroked Daniel's hair while she murmured to him.

Anger; an uncontrollable rage consumed him. He bolted upright in the bed and knocked Sam's hand away with a blow that sent her backwards off the bed. If they wouldn't help him, he'd just have to go find Shyla himself. He threw back the covers and pulled himself to the foot of the bed, avoiding where Sam had just fallen to the side.

The pain in his head and stomach were such that he didn't even notice the pain of his shredded feet hitting the floor as he lunged for the door.

He ran into something. Something big and solid, but soft. In his blind rage, he punched it and tried to push through it. He felt steel bands wrap around his arms, pinning them to his sides. He twisted until his back was to the obstacle and he used his legs to push off from the bed against it.

Whatever held him moved marginally, but did not let go. He used his legs to kick back at it while he tried to squirm out of its grip. After a moment of frenzied kicking, he felt something wrap around his legs, and in an instant, he was on the floor.

Now he was lying on top of whatever, or whoever had his arms around him. It had to be Teal'c. Jack isn't this big, or this squishy. It was probably Jack lying across his legs.

Exhaustion and helplessness settled over him. His arms were as heavy as tree trunks and his head pounded. He couldn't fight anymore. They had him outsized and outnumbered. After a few more last ditch frantic struggles, Daniel's world turned black.

***

"You okay, Carter?"

Sam struggled to sit up, using the loop on the side of the mattress to pull herself up. "Nothing hurt but my pride, sir."

Jack pulled his aching knees up under himself and rose up off of the floor where he had pinned Daniel's flailing legs. Resting on his knees, he placed his hands on his thighs and panted.

"How 'bout you, Teal'c?"

Teal'c lay on the floor, with a limp Daniel lying on his back on top of him. Daniel's head lolled off of Teal'c's chest and was supported by a large, beefy upper arm. "I am uninjured, O'Neill."

"Are you sure? You look a little pale."

"Daniel Jackson landed a blow just above my pouch. I will be fine in a moment."

"Okay. Whenever you're ready, we'll get you both up."

"I am ready now, O'Neill."

Not quite ready himself, O'Neill said under his breath, "I was afraid of that..."

Jack pulled himself up, using the end of the bed for leverage. He then straddled Teal'c and Daniel's legs and reached down to help shift Daniel over to the floor. Putting a hand behind Daniel's head to protect it, he and Teal'c lowered Daniel to one side while Teal'c scooted out from under. Then the two of them together lifted Daniel back on the bed.

Jack stood panting with his hands on his hips. "Shit, his feet are bleeding again."

Sam moved to the foot of the bed to see. The white socks they had put on Daniel earlier, were saturated on the bottoms with fresh blood. Wiping tears from her eyes, she wordlessly moved over to the newly restocked cart that Janet had sent and gathered up supplies.

"You okay, Carter?"

Sam sniffed. "Just fine."

She felt the colonel come and stand behind her. He touched her shoulder and lowered his voice. "He'll be fine, Carter. This is not surprising. The paranoia, the violent lashing out; it's all part of it. He doesn't know what he's doing and he probably won't remember any of it." He squeezed her shoulder and let his hand drop. "If there is a God," he added under his breath.

She turned, her watery blue eyes meeting his brown ones. She saw the fear in his eyes, despite his words. "This is just so...so... _not_ Daniel. I'm just afraid we've lost him inside there somewhere."

Jack reached out and put both arms around her and pulled her into a hug. "We haven't lost him. He's still in there. I saw him earlier." He winced at the ridiculousness of that statement. Then he quickly added, "We're not gonna let anything happen to him." After a quick squeeze, he released her.

Sam wiped her nose on her sleeve and stepped over to the bed. Sitting on the foot of the bed, she removed Daniel's socks and began wrapping his feet with bandages. Glancing up, she saw Teal'c with his hand on Daniel's head, patting it. Sam smiled and dipped her head, looking away so Teal'c wouldn't feel self-conscious, while she busied herself with her task.

Behind her, she heard the colonel drop on the cot with a groan. "Teal'c, we need to get you a dog," he said through a yawn.

Teal'c stopped his patting and looked over at O'Neill, a perplexed expression on his face. "I have enough friends to take care of without obtaining another, O'Neill."

Sam was no longer able to suppress the gentle laughter. "Touche', Teal'c."

***

Teal'c sat on the floor beside the bed. O'Neill had tried to make him leave, but he had refused to go. O'Neill and Daniel Jackson needed him here.

O'Neill was exhausted. He had gone to sleep in the middle of dinner. He had not stirred when Captain Carter removed the fork from his hand, and had only grunted when Teal'c helped him over to his cot. He shifted himself into a comfortable position and had not moved in the last three hours.

Captain Carter also refused to leave. She would not say, but Teal'c suspected that she was afraid if she left, she would come back to find Daniel Jackson gone. Literally, or figuratively, it did not matter. She slept with her head on her arms at the small table near the door.

Turning his head to the right, Teal'c's vision was on eye-level with Daniel Jackson's face on the bed. Daniel had stirred a few times, but had not awakened since his outburst earlier. He was now on his stomach with one arm underneath his abdomen and the other hanging over the side of the bed near Teal'c's face. Teal'c reached over and put the errant arm up on the pillow. Daniel grunted and pulled his hand up under his chin, curling it into a loose fist. Teal'c leaned over and pulled the covers up to Daniel's chin against the chill that he knew would come.

Time was meaningless; there were no clocks. Teal'c had not marked the time in hours. Even if he had, the hour was irrelevant. As long as it took, be it hours, or days, or weeks, he would sit vigil until their friend was free from the madness caused by the Goa'uld machine. He owed them this much. He owed Daniel Jackson this much, and more.

***

"I'm afraid you have no choice, general. I have a signed order from General Joseph Gross at the Pentagon. Doctor Jackson has been declared classified material and a threat to national security. My men and I will be on base at 0800 to take him into protective custody."

Hammond could sense the man's smugness over the phone. "A threat to national...?" Hammond was speechless for a moment. Recovering his voice, he continued, "Just because you get some clueless four-star at the Pentagon to sign a piece of paper doesn't mean you can come on _my_ base and take one of _my_ men. He is medically unfit for travel at any rate." Hammond's voice was steady, but the hand holding the phone was shaking with rage.

"We'll be there at 0800, General. If he is unfit for travel, we'll wait until he is fit. Either way, his home for the foreseeable future will be Nellis' high security research facility. Goodnight, General."

Hammond slammed the phone onto its cradle and threw the entire contraption across the room. Whatever Mayborne was after, he wasn't going to get it. Mayborne saw Doctor Jackson as a security risk and an object for study. How a man like that could rise to a position of power was beyond him.

Security risk _hell_! Mayborne just wanted to get his grubby hands on Doctor Jackson's brain. Wanted to find out what that damned Gould machine did to him, hoping he can find out how it works, maybe make one for himself.

How did that parasite find out about this anyway? He must have eyes and ears on this base. What's gone on for the last few days hasn't exactly been a secret. Dozens of personnel have seen Doctor Jackson since he's been back from six-three-six. As much as Hammond personally disliked the man, he was a part of this project and as such, had access.

It was after midnight in Colorado, which meant that it was already 0200 in Washington. Mayborne waited this late to call on purpose. What Mayborne did not know, was that the President of the United States had a personal interest in the Stargate program and in SG1 in particular. It was kept very quiet, but Hammond had access to the President on matters concerning his teams. The morning would be soon enough.

Hammond was staying on base until this episode was settled. Before turning in, he headed toward the VIP suite to check on his team.

***

The VIP suite was dark, but General Hammond could make out four bodies. Undoubtedly, his team had taken up residence. He could hear a soft snoring coming from off to the left and could see the figure of Captain Carter at the small table to his right.

Hammond walked quietly toward the bed and was surprised to see a pair of eyes, shining in the dim light. As his own eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out Doctor Jackson's boyish face against the stark white of the pillows on which he rested.

"Are you awake, son?"

There was a long pause. "Yes, sir."

"How are you feeling?" Hammond whispered so as not to arouse the others. His eyes were much better adjusted now and he could see Jackson clearly. His eyes were glistening, but his face was set in a stony resolve, staring at the ceiling.

"I'd like to request a transfer, sir." Daniel's voice was steady, determined, quiet.

Hammond sank down on the edge of the bed. "Just where do you think you'd like to go, son?" Part of Hammond felt like indulging Jackson only because he was ill, and another part wanted to consider the request seriously to protect him from any further harm or heartbreak.

"Base-duty, sir. Translations and analysis. I think I would be more useful..." 'and less dangerous' was the unspoken tag line.

"I'll take your request under consideration, Doctor Jackson." Hammond sat still, watching Jackson's face. He could see the internal struggle. the uncertainty, the what-if's. He noted the unshed tears pooling up and threatening to spill over. If Jackson were serious about his request, and it came down to granting it, or him leaving, he would reluctantly give Jackson what he wanted.

The SGC without Jackson was unthinkable. Allowing Mayborne his way was unjustifiable. Allowing this young man to go on thinking he was in any way at fault for six-three-six was unconscionable.

Hammond cleared his throat softly. "Son, listen to me for just a minute. I know you're sick right now, and I know you're feeling guilty and ashamed. I just want you to know, and I mean this with all my heart- you are the heart and soul of this program. I wouldn't trade you for a hundred archeologists, even if they threw in two hundred linguists to boot. You can believe me when I say that I don't for one minute think you did anything on six-three-six that you should be ashamed of. Circumstances made it so that you were placed in a compromising position. You were drugged just as surely as if someone had injected heroin into your vein. It could have happened to any one of us given the same set of circumstances."

Hammond reached out a hand to Daniel's face and caught a tear that had slipped out. Hammond surprised himself at his own uncharacteristic show of affection. A trait he usually reserved for his two granddaughters. He straightened his shoulders and continued. "Now, I will consider your request, but I want you to consider something as well. I want you to consider what your leaving SG1 would mean to your team. They need you...and I need them. I need all of you--out there."

Daniel's eyes wandered over to Hammond, his gaze falling on Hammond's eyes, searching for truth and finding it. With his throat painfully constricted, he managed to squeak out a "Thank you, sir."

Hammond patted him lightly on the shoulder and nodded. "Why don't we both try an' get some sleep? Everyone else around here seems to be sleeping..." He glanced around the room. "I think we should be too."

Daniel nodded, his eyes closing slowly, too heavy to keep open even a moment longer. The general sat with him until he was sure Daniel had gone to sleep. Then he rose from the bed stiffly and held his lower back as he stretched. Making his way out of the darkened room, it occurred to him that Jackson may not remember any of this tomorrow. He turned back and looked at the young man, leaving him with the wish that he absorbed the content, if not the details.

***

Morning broke over Cheyenne Mountain, as every morning did. This one in particular was cold. Harry Mayborne and his entourage exited his black limo at the VIP parking area inside the cave entrance to the complex, and began the journey into the bowels of the mountain. A journey that took them through six security checkpoints, and that was before they even reached the lowest levels where the top secret Stargate program was housed.

There was no morning in the dark VIP suite. This far below ground, day and night were one. The artificial lighting fooled the senses and eventually, one could forget the normal circadian rhythms that governed on the surface.

Jack awoke with a start. He didn't know what woke him, but he was instantly sitting on the cot, ears attuned to any changes. He scanned the darkened room. Sam was at the table, head down, and apparently asleep. That was presumably Daniel under that large lump in the bed. He couldn't see Teal'c, but knew he couldn't be too far away.

Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded over to where Daniel lay. Every bone, every muscle ached. That wrestling match with Daniel had taken its toll on his already abused body.

Sitting on the side of the bed, he reached over and uncovered Daniel's head. Glancing up, he noticed Teal'c sitting in repose on the far side of the bed.

Daniel was facing him, on his side, his face relaxed in deep sleep. Jack felt Daniel's forehead with the back of his hand. It felt normal. There was none of the heat that had raged in his body the last few days. Maybe last night was the turning point. He covered Daniel back up and rose from the bed.

Since Teal'c and Sam were here, he felt like he could slip out to his quarters for a shower and a clean set of fatigues. As he opened the door to the suite, he startled Doctor Fraiser who was opening the door from the other side.

"Oh! Good morning, Colonel O'Neill."

"Mornin', Doc. You're here early."

"I wanted to stop in before I start my infirmary rounds. How'd it go last night?"

Jack's first instinct was to gloss over the bad parts, but he decided that honesty was the best policy here. "Pretty bad, Doc. He became violent, paranoid. We had to wrestle with him a little. He's okay now though. He's been sleeping all night. I was just going for a shower and a change of clothes."

Janet nodded. "Okay, you go ahead. I'll just have a quick look at Daniel."

Jack stepped aside to admit the diminutive Doctor, then slipped out and quietly closed the door.

***

Mayborne left his second and the rest of the team at the sixteenth level, and proceeded down to the command level. Exiting the elevator, he turned toward Hammond's office.

Rounding a corner, he ran headlong into a very disheveled Colonel Jack O'Neill. Oh great, just about the last person he wanted to see. He expected flack from Hammond, but didn't need Jack O'Neill's input too.

Mayborne knew he was not popular here. He also knew he had a job to do. As he saw it, his job was to protect national security as well as enhance global defense by obtaining and studying alien technology. Right now, Doctor Daniel Jackson was a direct link to one of the most coveted of the technologies they had encountered. Hell, he might even have physical remnants of the sarcophagus technology inside his body.

Daniel Jackson was also Jack O'Neill's prized pet, and he knew that making off with him was going to be a fight. Mayborne reached in his pocket and patted the letter he had brought with him. He reassured himself he had every right to be here and was under direct orders from the Pentagon to obtain the objective.

"Hello, Jack. You're looking...well."

Jack looked askance, glancing down at his own wrinkled and limp uniform, then back to Mayborne. "What the hell are you doing here, Harry?"

"Oh, didn't General Hammond tell you?"

"Tell me what, Harry? That you're here to take over command?"

Mayborne smiled, but for some reason, Jack was sure it wasn't because he thought that was funny.

"I'm here to take Doctor Jackson into custody. Excuse me." Mayborne stepped aside and started to walk around Jack.

"What?" Jack reached out and grabbed Harry's arm and spun him around. The grin was still plastered on his smarmy face. Jack's eyes narrowed. "What are you up to, Harry?"

Mayborne looked down at the hand Jack had on his sleeve. Jack removed it with a fleeting thought of relocating it.

"Doctor Jackson is a security risk. He also has been declared classified. Excuse me, I have business..."

_"Colonel Mayborne!"_ The general's voice brooked no delay.

"Yes, sir." Mayborne snapped to attention. The general's head had appeared through his outer office door.

"Is it not customary when visiting a facility to report immediately upon arrival to the commanding officer?"

"Yes, sir. On my way, sir." Harry shot O'Neill a withering glance and headed off toward the General's office.

Jack O'Neill cocked his head in Mayborne's direction, and then followed it quickly with his body. He wasn't going to miss this.

Jack stuck his head in the office noting that Harry was already seated.

The general waved him in. "Come on in, Colonel. You might as well hear this."

Mayborne's face registered disapproval as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a large white envelope. He glanced at it and then tossed it onto the general's desk.

"I believe you'll find everything you need there, General."

General Hammond looked at the envelope, then reached for it, and ceremoniously opened it with his formal letter opener. The same letter opener that had the seal of the President of the United States on it. The same letter opener that the President had given him personally last year when he had visited the White House. Hammond made sure that Mayborne saw it.

Hammond sliced through the envelope and then blew a puff into it to open it. He removed the letter and slowly unfolded it and began to read.

The letter was from one General Joseph Gross, Department of Defense, The Pentagon, Washington, D.C.

"Very impressive, Colonel Mayborne. Does this General, uh..." He glanced at the letter again, "Gross know anything about the Stargate program or Doctor Jackson?"

Mayborne shifted in his seat. "I couldn't really say, General. I just follow orders."

O'Neill looked from one man to the other, astounded at what he was seeing. Maybe he was still back in the VIP suite and he was dreaming. That's it. This had to be a dream. Harry Mayborne actually thought he was going to come in here, wave a piece of paper and we'd just hand over Daniel for him to do experiments on? Jack was stunned speechless.

"Well, since you seem to be ill-informed, Colonel. Let me bring you up to speed." The general rose from his desk and loomed over Harry Mayborne.

Jack settled back and laced his fingers together as he prepared to watch the show.

"General Joseph Gross is a retired World War Two general who still maintains an office at the Pentagon. Oh, he rarely goes there, of course, seeing as how he's _ninety-two years old_!" The general paused, his voice taking on a singsong quality. "His staff, however, does maintain the office and in the general's name, mails out _official_ invitations to _official_ Pentagon _social_ functions to military personnel and their families around the world."

The general paused to let this sink in. He then walked around the side of his desk and hiked his leg up on the edge. He held up the letter that Mayborne had presented him, and slowly and methodically tore it into tiny little pieces.

"Now. Let me tell you what's going to happen here, Colonel Mayborne. You are going to get out of my office and off my base. And if you ever come in here with this kind of trick again, I'll have you up on charges so fast, you'll be meetin' your ass coming back!" Hammond paused, took a deep breath and lowered the timbre of his voice. "Now get out of my office before I pick up that phone," he said, pointing at the red phone squatting quietly on his desk.

Mayborne's eyes flicked to the phone. Then he picked up his hat and glanced over at Jack as he rose and addressed the general.

"General Hammond." Mayborne cleared his throat. "I came here today with what I thought were legitimate orders to secure and transport a research subject. I was acting on orders, sir."

Hammond, pulsing with a combination of rage and glee, struggled to modulate his voice, speaking in an even tone. "Well, I'd say you were mistaken, Harry."

"Yes, sir."

Mayborne saluted and left.

General Hammond left his perch on the desk and returned to his chair. He looked across his desk at Jack O'Neill who hadn't said a word.

"Jack?"

Jack's head jerked up. "Sir?"

"You okay?"

Jack rubbed a hand through his gray hair. "Uh. What just happened here, sir?"

"It's a long story, Jack. Just know that no one is taking Doctor Jackson out of here by order of the President of the United States. I was on the phone with him just before you got here. He's very concerned about Doctor Jackson and wants daily reports."

Jack appeared dazed. "Oh. Uh huh. That's nice of him, sir." Jack thought for a minute, and then continued. "Uh, sir. What was all that about a general at the Pentagon and..."

Hammond waved his hand. "Stop right there, Jack. You needn't concern yourself with that right now. I will tell you that those were legitimate orders and Harry could have walked out of here with Doctor Jackson based on that letter. He just wasn't counting on the lengths to which I'll go...," Hammond paused.

Jack's faced registered even more puzzlement, if that were possible.

"Suffice it to say, I bluffed him. I wanted to hold the Presidential card in reserve for if I needed it at a later date."

Jack's head bobbed up and down as if in complete understanding.

"Jack, I don't want you concerned about this. I _didn't_ even want you to know about it. Your job right now is to take care of Doctor Jackson and your team. I need you to get your team back out there."

Jack stood. "Yes, sir."

Both men moved toward the door. Jack still appeared dazed. That was nothing new in the general's experience, but perhaps he had been through enough for one day. Reaching the door together, the general opened it for O'Neill. O'Neill came out of his reverie long enough to be startled.

"Uh...thank you, sir."

"That's alright, Jack." Hammond nodded and patted Jack on the back, sending him on his way with a smile.

***

After his shower, Jack returned to the VIP suite to find that all was well. The world hadn't ended, the bad guys hadn't won, the end was in sight.

Carter had moved over to the cot, but Teal'c was still on the floor. The lump on the bed was stirring around and Jack heard a groan. After a moment, the lump rose up and the covers fell away. Daniel looked around, dazed. He rubbed his hand through his hair and yawned.

"Jack?"

Jack moved quickly to the bed and sat. "Right here, buddy."

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself."

Daniel noticed Teal'c on the floor beside his bed, but made no comment. He swung his feet over the side and slid toward the edge.

"Whoa, whoa, where're you going?", Jack said, rising from his perch on the edge of the bed.

"To the bathroom if that's okay with you."

Jack reached a hand out to steady Daniel as he rose. "Uh, yeah, that's okay, just let me help you here."

Daniel stood and swayed a bit before attempting a step. He looked down at his own feet.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"What's wrong with my feet?" They appeared twice their normal size. Carter had wrapped them thickly in bandages and then pulled socks over the dressings.

"Well, uh, you stepped on some glass yesterday. Those are bandages."

Daniel continued to examine them, and then shifted his gaze to Jack. "Oh." He started to move toward the bathroom without further comment. He held on to the doorframe as he shuffled into the bathroom. Jack stayed close without actually touching him.

After Daniel was all the way in the bathroom, he turned and put a hand up to Jack's chest. "I don't need help with this Jack, I've been doing it since I was three."

Jack backed up and left the room, leaving the door cracked open. After a few minutes, Daniel emerged unscathed.

Jack stood and helped him back to bed. "Feel better?"

"Yeah. I feel okay...a little...murky."

"Well, that's okay. Better to stay in the dark sometimes. I've avoided many an unpleasantness that way." Jack grinned and searched Daniel's face for a reaction. Finding none, he added seriously, "You've been sick, but you're okay now."

Daniel lay back against the pillows and rubbed his eyes. "Jack, why are Sam and Teal'c here?"

Jack looked around at the balance of his team. "They were worried about you. They just stayed a little late and decided to sleep over."

Daniel sighed and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry I was so much trouble."

"I thought you didn't remember anything."

"Well, not everything, but one look at you and this room and I know it wasn't pretty."

"No, not pretty, but darned entertaining." Jack grinned and then put on his serious face. "You're gonna be fine. We all are."

His memory may be poor about what happened here, but he remembered well what happened on six-three-six. Despite the general's reassurances--he did remember that much-- he never felt more ashamed in his life. He had caused his team to suffer in the mines, he had damaged his friendship with Sam, and he even remembered something about hurting Doctor Fraiser.

His eyes flew open and he turned to Jack. "Did I hurt anybody?"

Jack hesitated for a moment, and then decided to lie. "No, absolutely not, Daniel. Everyone is fine. We've all just been worried about you."

"I'm okay. I just don't know how you can ever trust me again."

"Daniel, enough of that." Jack could see Daniel's burst of energy was flagging. His eyes were slowly sliding shut. "We'll talk about it later. Why don't you get some more sleep? It's early yet."

Daniel's eyes were already closed. Jack pulled the covers up again and rose from the bed. Turning, he saw that Carter was awake and sitting up on the cot.

She kept her voice to a whisper. "He sounds better."

"He is." Jack moved over and sat beside her, his hands dropping loosely between his knees. "You okay?"

Sam raked her fingers through her short blonde hair. "Well, I've had better nights, but yeah, I'm okay." She stood and stretched, rubbing the kinks out of her back. "I'm going to go take a shower."

"Go get some breakfast too." Jack turned, suddenly remembering Teal'c "And take Teal'c with you, okay?" He raised the volume of his voice a notch. "Hey, Teal'c! Rise and shine."

Teal'c's eyes shot open. In a moment he was on his feet.

"Time to get up, big guy. Go get cleaned up and eat something."

Teal'c peered at Daniel, then made his way around the bed. "Is Daniel Jackson alright?"

"He's better now. He was up a while ago, went to the bathroom, we talked. He seems to be over the worst."

Teal'c nodded. "I am pleased.

Jack nodded. "Yeah. Now go on, get outta here."

Without argument, Sam and Teal'c filed out and closed the door.

It wasn't over yet. The worst of the physical symptoms had abated, but Daniel still had to come to terms with what he had done. In his mind, he had betrayed the team and endangered them all. In Jack's mind, an entirely different person did all that.

***

By noon, Jack had gone to check in with the General while Sam stayed with Daniel. He had been up since about ten and ate a light breakfast, even managing to keep it down. He was pale, his hands shook while he held a spoon, but the old Daniel was coming back in increments.

Sam tried to engage Daniel in a game of chess. He complied, but it was only to please her, Sam suspected.

As he stared at the board, hazily contemplating his next move, Daniel cleared his throat. "Uh, Sam?"

Sam startled. She had become used to the long pauses between moves and had closed her eyes. "Yeah?"

"Uh, I, um..." Daniel cleared his throat and looked her directly in the eye. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. You know, for what I said."

Sam raised a hand to stop him. "No, Daniel. Please, you have nothing to apologize for. That man wasn't you and I knew it then just as I know it now. It was forgiven the instant it was said. I don't want you to give it another thought."

Daniel dropped his eyes to the chessboard, unable to meet her gaze any longer. She was the stronger one, he'd always known that. He knew he'd get nowhere if he argued. "Okay." Then after a moment, "Thanks, Sam."

Sam stood, moved to the side of the table and stooped next to Daniel's chair. She dipped her head, trying to capture his eyes with hers. "Daniel, I love you like a brother. I can't bear to watch you beat yourself up. Please, for me..." Sam sighed and placed a hand on his knee. "Please forgive yourself."

Daniel met her gaze and swallowed the lump that had taken up residence in his throat. Without a word, he pulled her into a hug, and held on for dear life. After a moment he shifted uncomfortably. Sam picked up on his discomfort and pulled away.

"What's the matter?"

Daniel met her eyes, his feet shifting nervously. "Ummm, uh, my feet itch."

Sam tried to suppress the grin, her lips quivered. Finally it broke through, splitting her face in a wide smile. "Well, that I can do something about." She stood and looped her arm through his, pulling him to his feet. "C'mon, back to bed. We'll take those bandages off and put something on your feet."

Daniel shuffled over to the bed and dropped down, holding his feet inches off the floor while Sam busied herself at the supply cart.

"Sam?"

Sam didn't turn around. "Mmm hmm?"

"I was afraid." Daniel took a deep breath, then continued. "I was afraid I'd lost you."

Sam turned and looked at Daniel. He couldn't meet her gaze. That simple statement told her more than she'd ever suspected was going on in Daniel's mind. She knew instinctively that he didn't mean just her, but all of them.

There was so much she wanted to say to him. She wanted to tell him how special he was, how much she valued him as a friend and as a person. How much she respected his integrity, his humanity and his intellect.

In the seconds it took for the thoughts to race through her mind, Daniel's blue eyes met hers and her throat constricted. "Never, Daniel. There's nothing you could ever do that would cause that to happen."

She turned back to the cart and finished gathering her supplies. With her back to him, she swallowed several times before she managed to speak. "I think I can speak for the colonel and Teal'c when I say 'too bad, Bud, your stuck with us.'"

That was good enough. Daniel sighed, laid back in the bed and closed his eyes. The weight of the world had been lifted. The road to recovery had just become shorter, straighter and much less terrifying. Now he just had some new potholes to mend.

**The End**

  


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> AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I didn’t intend to do another tag to another Daniel-in-distress episode, but hey, it’s what I do. Unfortunately, I’m running out of episodes, so this may be my last tag. Time to start thinking up original stuff. Oy! I’ve always been off-put by all those stories that implied the sarcophagus addiction was somehow Daniel’s fault. This is just my take on it. Anyway, huge thanks to my two bettas. Yes, I mean the fish. But thanks also to my other two betas, Pough and Bounty.  
> 

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> © 2000 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp.  
> The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters  
> who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names,   
> titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.   
> 

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